“She can't understand a word I say and I don't know what to do with her. She's had the bandage off once already.”
“The devil she has! Well, then you'll have to unwrap it, I guess, and pretend to do something. But it would be better to let it alone.”
“How is the other patient tonight?”
“Doing fine, Doctor.”
“Good! Good-bye.”
There was a spacious, airy, upper chamber opening out on a balcony at the doctor's house which the doctor and Mary claimed for theirs. Not now; O no! But in the beautiful golden sometime when the telephone ceased from troubling and the weary ones might rest. This meant when the doctor should retire from night practice. Until that happy time they occupied a smaller room on the first floor as it was near the telephone. Mary had steadfastly refused to have the privacy of her upper rooms invaded by the tyrant.
One warm summer night when bed-time came she made the announcement that she was going upstairs to sleep in the big room.
“But what if I should be called out in the night?” asked her husband, with protest in his voice.